Finney Thayer

By Finney Thayer of The Pathfinder

December 1, 2025

Let us go then, you and I,

Down the winding grey trails,

Past windblown grass and blurred names

With lost, unfocused eyes.

Cold, sharp air nips at my flesh

Poking and prodding with needles.

I am lost in faint, white smoke,

Seeing, but not perceiving.

Hard metal underfoot

And sounds of whistles afar.

Scents of fuel and

Rain lingers in the air,

Washing over me,

Taking me back to a time

Happier than this.

The broken and abandoned

Mix with the fresh and lively,

Creating an artwork of brick and mortar.

Fresh snow-laden branches

Moan and complain in the breeze,

Making a song of some sort.

The white powder blankets the town.

The silver globe shines down,

Casting harsh shadows and eerie lines,

Highlighting silver chain link fences

And frost-coated windowpanes.

Scores of stars look down upon me

Scrutinizing my every move,

As I wander down deserted streets.

My gaze straying,

Looking to and fro,

Searching, wandering.

Images of quaint coffee shops,

Small restaurants,

Barber shops,

Schoolyards,

And churches

Flash by,

As my heart pushes me forward.

Hours seem to pass by;

In reality, it was but a handful of minutes.

My vision focuses on a breathtaking destination:

Bare boughs hang in the sky

Towering over me,

Protecting me.

The playground sits untouched

Sprinkled with powdered sugar.

I float gently towards the swings,

Sitting down amongst nostalgia and memories.

A lonely sigh escapes my mouth.

By Finney Thayer of The Pathfinder

October 18, 2025

From the hard, frosty earth,

Flowers sprout up once more.

Blanketing the ground with a variety of colours,

From striking purples to sunny yellows and bold reds,

Shaded blues and bright oranges weave their way in.

Whimsical birdsong permeates the air anew.

Gaia has awakened.

The beams of Apollo beat down harsher than ever before.

Animals throughout the forest are quiet,

They hide from the harsh rays coating the lands.

Shafts of light pierce through leaves,

Giving the floor a dappled look.

Rivers shrink ever so slightly,

As the sun greedily drinks them up.

Greenleaf is upon us.

Cool breezes rattle the boughs,

And the leaves flutter down, cloaking the ground

In shiny golds, ruby reds, and tawny browns.

Scents of pumpkin and maple swirl in the air;

A murder of crows flies overhead

Letting loose a harsh cacophony of caws.

Magna Mater has begun to grow sleepy.

Harsh winds sweep over the lands,

Accompanied by stinging rain and cold snow.

The trees are bare as can be,

Bereft of their leaves.

Slumbering fauna lie beneath the earth,

Dreaming of a moment better than this.

Time slows down,

As if Chronos can feel the chill brought on.

Liquid ice seeps into the ground,

Killing off all that is pretty

And replacing it with a coat of white.

Mother Earth is slumbering once more.